


Sona

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Fursonas, Gender Identity, M/M, Online Relationship, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Vaginal Sex, online lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: The internet was Lance's escape from reality.  Nestled in the safe haven of his many social media accounts he could become anyone he wanted to be. Anything he wanted to be. He didn't have to be just Lance. The insecure Lance, who struggled with his gender identity and sexuality. He could transform into the character he'd spent years creating...perfecting. Lacey. A beautiful white tiger with striking blue eyes and a fun loving personality. Lacey was confident. Lacey wasn't afraid of anything, she was brave. And even if it was just for a moment, even if it was digital, Lance could be her. Be Lacey. He never expected to get so caught up in the fantasy. But when he meets someone online, who goes by the name of KittyBlack...he's swept up in the rush of it all. He's falling for someone he only knows by their fursona.If it makes his heart beat faster, if it makes his palms sweat...if it feels real... doesn't that make it real?





	Sona

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the Shance Realties AU Bang!! It's been an idea I have wanted to do for a very long time and this bang gave me the opportunity to do so! I got to work with two amazing artists on this @Crafty-Scrafty and @Annake-art!!! Check out their lovely pieces on their tumblrs! I'm glad to finally get this out there into the wild. Thank you to my Beta EclipseMidnight for betaing the first half of this monster while I took care of the other half. Sorry ahead of times for any mistakes I missed! Enjoy!

He checked back over his shoulder as he walked, his nervous, tired mind thinking he’d possibly heard footsteps behind him. That was highly unlikely though: the campus was asleep, as were most its occupants…as he really should have been.

He paused to scan the nearly empty parking lot.

There was nobody here.

Everyone else with half a mind in their possession would have been tightly tucked into their beds.

The young man looked down to the phone in his hand. It reflected bright white numbers that alerted him to the fact that it was indeed nearly four in the morning. He grumbled to himself. His nighttime activities were worth it though, they just put him one step ahead of the rest of the class. He could sleep the entirety of the day away tomorrow anyway. He’d already talked himself into skipping his morning class…and possibly his afternoon one too, but his guilty conscious was still fighting against the latter.

His worn converses slapped the uneven asphalt of the parking lot, his attention drifting away to the device held in his hand. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulder as he made the grand journey across the blacktop. He was really wishing he’d have parked closer at this point, but he’d made it to campus late that morning and missed out on all the prime parking spots. His thumb traced the home key of his phone, clicked the app in the top right corner, and was instantly given access to a feed full of colorful images and text. A world full of hashtags and too many smiley faces, a WIP here and there, maybe a photo of someone’s pet. Lance smiled as he cruised the main feed for several moments, gathering eyefuls of the recent works of some of his favorite artists.

His exploration shifted to his messages, lips quirking into a lopsided, silly little smile as he realized he had several new ones. The first two were users inquiring about his commission prices. He would get to those in the morning when he’d had a bit of sleep.

The third had his heart rate running just the slightest bit faster.

His lack of attention to his surroundings caused him to step into a small pothole and nearly trip right over himself.

Lance cursed and clumsily regained his bearings, fingers clenched tight around the phone that he’d almost dropped. He clutched the thing to his chest and sighed out loudly. The last thing he needed was another crack in his screen. No phone protector in the entire world could hold up to the wrath of Lance Fuentes’ clumsy hands. Any phone that came into his possession was just about guaranteed an early demise by being dropped down a flight of stairs, or stepped on, or plunked into the toilet.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to read messages and walk.

He shrugged his shoulders and reopened the app anyway.

His eyes traced the message, his stomach filling with a growing flutter as he drank in every piece of text. The familiar name bannered across the top of the feed had his cheeks filling with a very slight heat that he didn’t try to hide in the late hours of the evening.

_KittyBlack._

It was followed by a colorful icon that Lance knew all too well, he’d done the art after all. A strikingly handsome lion, black as midnight, mane wild around a chipper grin.

“ _I saw this at a garage sale on my jog this morning. Made me think of you!”_

The message had an attached photo of a stuffed white tiger that looked to have been well loved by little hands over the years. Lance was so lost in reading the message, he almost didn’t realize he’d made it to his lonely, beat up truck sitting idle in the dark lot.

He fished for his keys in the bottom of his messy pack, finally coming away with the pile of too many keychains attached to his lanyard. The young man popped the old door wide, a creak of rusty hinges greeting him fondly.

He slid himself across the ancient bench seat, the cloth cushions nearly worn through from too many asses being planted in them time and time again. Tired fingers shoved the key into the ignition and Lance breathed in deep before he turned it over.

“Alright girl, please start for me. I’m exhausted and we talked about this. So c’mon, for me.” Lance bribed into the silence of the cab.

He cocked his hand, the elderly truck rumbling to life on the first try with a less than pretty stutter. Lance sighed and let his crown fall back on the headrest, running lengthy fingers through his hair.

“Thank you pretty lady.” Lance chuckled.

He snatched his phone from where it laid on the passenger seat, his thumbs dancing across the keyboard quickly before he set off on the short drive from the campus to his shared apartment.

“ _That’s adorable!! Oh so you were thinking of me, huh big guy?”_

The young man hit send and tossed the phone into the cup-holder.

The single cab truck groaned in protest as he backed out of the lot, rays of lights from the streetlamps skittering through his front windshield. The four cups of coffee he’d downed were still faintly hanging with him, keeping him awake enough to guide the vehicle home.

He was just a few stoplights and a couple of streets over from the campus, a choice he was incredibly thankful for during nights like these. The apartment complex wasn’t anything fancy, but they weren’t falling apart like some of the ones a few blocks over. Lance locked his truck and forced himself up the stairwell, body finally starting to feel the effects of not sleeping for nearly twenty four hours. He prodded the front door open as silently as physically possible, knowing Hunk would not appreciate Lance waking him in the wee hours of the morning. He debated trying to dance with a quick shower, but the siren song his mattress was singing ended up winning the fight. 

He hefted one foot up into his hand, hopping a few steps as he removed the sneaker, letting loose the foul stench that had been trapped there. The work he’d put in at the school’s print shop was carried home within the sweat drenched soles of his socks.

He dropped himself heavily on the bedding, which was unmade and slightly musky. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stripped his bedding down and washed it properly. He wrinkled his nose and nuzzled into the staleness of his favorite pillow. The removal of his clothing was an awkward sideways dance that happened right there on the hand-me-down mattress, his skinny length wriggling out of his tight jeans and an ink stained shirt.

His fingers wavered on the buttery soft skin of his hips, treading just the slightest bit farther to the hem of his undergarments. Soft, pliable cotton printed with tasteful little polka dots in pinks and whites. Some of the cutest panties he owned and no one but him would even get to enjoy them. Maybe that was half the fun of it after all. He was a selfish self-lover anyway, but in his opinion there was no better way to be.

His heavy eyes did a half assed sweep across the comforters, to the small rectangular object that had tripped into bed right along with him. He reached out for it, drawing it close and enjoying the familiar weight and shape in the square of his palm.

The entire world lived each day with their noses pressed into the small screens of their cellular devices, close enough to lick the fingerprints right off the glass and smell the stickiness of the fleshy oils left behind. Small, precious little escape doors really. And he was no different. Only he didn’t pretend to act like he wasn’t. He knew just exactly how tightly the piece of technology had him by the balls.

With the click of a side button and the swipe of a thumb Lance’s high cheekbones were cast in ghostly light. He winced away from the sudden severity of the brightness and hesitated as he hovered the pad of his digit over the app. He really should sleep. He needed the sleep.

But there was an aching want settled right at the base of his spine that didn’t hunger for slumber, not just yet. If he indulged, he’d sleep so much better afterward anyway.

There was sleep, and then there was blissful, sexually sated, almost trancelike sleep. They were worlds apart and in that breath Lance knew exactly which type he’d like to lay his head down to rest with. The young man’s skin broke out in gooseflesh at the mere prospect of sleep like that. Golden hued, thick and drippy as it laid over him heavily.

He clicked the brightly colored square and his eyes darted over the messages in his inbox.

He swallowed dryly.

He’d gotten it in his head that he’d be sent off into dreamland on a cloud laced boat of ecstasy, but he’d not even considered that the main component for getting his hands on such a thing might have already gone to sleep.

His heart skittered and missed three beats as he realized his last message already had a response, meaning his chances of getting exactly what he wanted were looking better by the second.

“ _Of course I was thinking about you. I always am.”_

Lance snorted, lip quirking up into an exhausted smile.

His pulse hummed just a little harder.

What a fucking charmer, and oh he knew just the right way to mash all of Lance’s buttons with a skillful ease that maybe Lance should have been just a little more intimidated by. But he wasn’t. The pretty, bright little structure of his phone always had him throwing caution out the car window…because anything that happened there wasn’t real. It was all just an elaborate fantasy that he could push and pull and tug and twist. He could mold it and shape it and nobody could tell him not to. As he lay on the plain of his back, light raining down on him in blue slivers, he was allowing himself to be consumed into the other world divided only by the phone screen. He’d melt away, leaving this body, and the restrictions that it encompassed, behind.

_“What are you doing up so late?”_

Lance knew just how to begin this waltz.

Beside the familiar icon on the opposite side of the screen from his own, faint grey text appeared signifying the other party was formulating a response. Lance’s pulse thrummed harder with every second. The anticipation was an otherworldly sweet nourishment on his tongue.

_“The usual, couldn’t sleep, what about you, night owl? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”_

Lance read the text in a cheeky, playful tone that he imagined Black might have. He liked a little bit of a cocky attitude on his lovers. A perfect concoction of boastfulness and pride and it had Lance’s blood running hot. Lance chewed the cuticle of his thumb habitually, rolling his possible response around in his head several times before begging to type.

_“What, are you going to scold me for being awake at this hour big boy?”_

He’d put his best foot forward, now he was just banking on Black taking the hint and following suit. Lance didn’t doubt he’d catch onto Lance’s game. Black was quick witted, and any time they conversed this late into the midnight it often devolved into the dark, sticky little places Lance hid away so well. He loved the way this felt, like tugging on a comfortable shirt that was worn in well. Here everything was safe, he didn’t have to tiptoe. He’d built a little world around a perfect version of himself that existed only here in the late hours, drawn on the backs of notebooks for years until he’d become more than just familiar with her. Lacey was a piece of him, something he kept tucked close to his chest as she was too dear to trust just anyone with her. But in the fictional world weaved between Black and himself he let her loose and allowed himself to be enveloped within her. Like she was a well-built shell, he curled himself within her breast.

Right there on the wrinkled mess of sheets Lance grew sleek fur and claws sharp as the slick end of a knife. He smiled and there was nothing but a garden of fangs.

_“That attitude on you gets me every time, Lacey. I might just need to scold you pretty lady.”_

Lance shivered as his eyes scraped the sentence.

He careened just slightly, boxers hitching up on the valleys of his long legs. Slow fingers wandered the hills of his torso, pressing into his soft stomach just slightly before trailing to the coarse, fine hairs running from his navel to his groin. He buried his bottom lip, phone still tightly clutched in his right hand as he drew the unhurried motions out. They were better that way, after all. Things like this needed to be savored, not consumed all in one bite-that was just a waste of something that could easily be made into a four course meal.

Lance could feel the taut stretch of his gut twitch upon a deep inhale, fingertips tucking teasingly beneath the hem of his waistband.

His attention returned to the conversation.

_“You know scolding me never works. But you trying to act tough by warning me is very cute.”_

Lance’s mouth hung in a crescent shaped symbol of amusement.

_“You are impossible sweetheart. So, are you in bed, baby?”_

He was a good boy, playing along with Lance’s game so quickly.

_“I am. There’s plenty of room for one more…if you want to join me?”_

Lance’s fur was suddenly somehow longer, the shape of his everything shifting into something new and old at the same time. It was like coming home. It was like stepping into warm bath water and letting it sink over his entire form from top to bottom.

_“How could I possibly say no to you?”_

_****_

_A solid, heavy form pressed new weight into the little mattress. Lacey’s body bounced and shifted with the suddenly motion, rocking like a small sailboat on the riled ocean waves. The young tigress turned her head, her eyes rolling open in a lethargic fashion. She peered back over the round of her shoulder, gaze sweeping the length of the bed and gathering an eyeful of her new company. Her vision was interrupted by a mass of ebony, almost blending against the shadowy backdrop of the bedroom environment. Her lip curled back, the whites of her pearly canines glittering in the low light from the bedside clock on the nightstand._

_“What took you so long?” She purred, a playfulness clinging to the tail end of her words._

_There was only a deep rumble of a growl in response._

_“Apologies, love.”_

_Blue topaz orbs collided with pools of grey so deep they were like falling into the stomach of a thunderstorm. They were only darkening with every passing moment, threatening thunder and lightning with their heaviness._

_“That was a weak apology, I know you can do better than that,” Lacey hummed, the sentence dripping off the sharps of her teeth._

_The white tiger rolled herself onto the plain of her back, nipples beading to hard little points when presented with the chilly bedroom air. She arched herself and allowed her legs to fall open as slow and graceful as a drawbridge opening wide to allow a ship passage through her port and pressed her clawed toes into the thick of her partner’s chest. She curled them, digging the knife-like tips into the glossy-black fur of the massive lion who took roost at the end of the mattress. He’d not earned permission to make himself comfortable just yet. He’d need to pry just a little farther to obtain that._

_Lacey enjoyed the hiss of breath that whistled through the beast’s fangs, a look of discomfort washed across his muzzle as the daintiest trickle of blood ran from the pierced flesh below his coat. The massive creature leaned down then, daring to take the first careful steps into the lair of his lover. Ever careful, he treaded on feather-light feet as he explored, paws sliding the long roads of the tigress’s powerful legs. His eyes quickly flicked to hers’, as if asking silent permission._

_She smiled._

_And that was all the blessing he needed._

_Big jaws made for crushing bones like brittle twigs allowed a wide, rough tongue passage as Black ran the width of the wet organ along Lacey’s inner thigh. The touch slicked the fur there, earning an involuntary shudder from his lover. He smiled into the kiss he then placed against her._

_“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, my sun, my moon, my stars,” Black whispered, tenderly adding to the collection of kisses he was currently painting across her flesh._

_His waterfall of a mane brushed along the sheets and cascaded over her ivory pelt as he moved, giving more to the apology he was crafting. He knew her anger was just a little game she liked to play. She was the farthest thing from genuinely upset, the way her body moved so readily into his paw-pads gave that truth away. With every pass of his tongue he could feel her seams loosen just a little bit more._

_“That’s better,” She murmured softly, her voice already losing its power._

_She didn’t care, really._

_Where was the fun in it all if she didn’t let herself go? She was dancing just out of the clutches of that fuzzy sensation of utter bliss and her feet were tiring. There was no point in keeping herself from it a second longer._

_Black was heavy as he rutted against the apex of her thighs, with swells of strength, hills of muscle that gave homage to just how powerful of a thing he really was. He was so mighty and yet reduced to nothing more than a puddle at the tips of her claws._

_The warm slide of his hardness against her slit had curls of flames igniting along her skin. She shuddered and moved towards him, a planet captured in his strong gravitational pull. She was helpless against it._

_His tongue rolled across the thrum of her pulse, licking a soft trail of moisture along the length of her throat. The gentle pinch of teeth to the skin there gathered a breathy gasp from deep down in her lungs._

_His cock opened her wide, the stretch bringing a hiss to her lips. Wetness dripped down the crack of her rear as she lifted her hips to his advances. Clawed fingers drug her into every thrust, his hips searching deep and determined._

_His breaths deteriorated into growls that came out as rough and raw as sandpaper, scratching down the back of her neck. His claws sliced into the mattress below them like a warm knife through butter. He could have easily torn her to ribbons if he wanted; such a big, monstrous thing as himself. But he didn’t dare. She had him so tightly wrapped around her fingers he could hardly breathe without her permission. She liked her animals submissive and obedient._

_He seemed perfectly content appeasing her every wish, as if that was his one reason for living._

_He breathed hard and uneven into the curve of her sensitive ear, his fingers squeezing into the tight space between their moving bodies. His thumb traced circles over her sensitive bundle of nerves, risen to attention and begging for the touch of another. Black obeyed ever so willingly._

_He was soft in the amount of pressure he applied, dancing a perfect rhythm around her clit._

_She moaned into his fur, loud and unbridled._

_She wouldn’t last long, not like this, not with the heavy fire that had been lit in her belly._

_Her claws drew harsh lines down the muscles of his back, her cries devolving into animalistic roars that vibrated her esophagus._

_The stutter of his big hips and the low snarl that vibrated from his jaws announced his end as it came on violently. She could feel the warm rush of his cum flooding her inner walls, plentiful and thick. She purred and bucked as his fingers brought her to her own orgasm, determined to have her finish with him. They shattered right there on the bedding, nearly simultaneously._

_Teeth bared and eyes glistening they enjoyed the conclusion of their buildup, holding each other too tightly, as if for fear that if they let loose they’d simply float away into the night._

_She buried her nose in the softness of his mane, damp with sweat and filled with heat._

_*****_

Lance’s vision danced at the edges, and his chest heaved as he lay on his back. One hand clutched at his chest, his perfectly manicured nails digging in a little deeper than he’d realized. He blinked.Once, twice, three times.

He very slowly took his left palm away from his softening cock. He’d spent his load up over the length of his torso in glistening, plentiful ropes. He’d been too deep into the realms of pleasure to realize he’d not only gotten his sticky finish all over himself but he’d also spilled onto the sheets and he could feel some drooling down his hip and onto the bedding. It had felt too good for him to fucking care. He still didn’t, his head a hazy snow-globe that had been shaken far too violently. All the flurries kept him just out of reach from reality.

His eyes roamed the plains of his ceiling, the fan blades cutting a lazy circle overhead, not quite providing as much airflow as he needed. He sucked down a big breath, the tepid air sticking to the lining of his throat uncomfortably.

His mouth was _so dry._

And, slowly, he came back down to earth.

The walls of his room were suddenly too familiar, too real. The posters hung crookedly here and there, the pile of dirty clothing that had been accumulating in the corner…it was all so _real._

And he was alone.

All alone.

His chest gave a dull throb as he laid there, body still unwilling to attempt any sort of motion.

Though sweat clung in pretty little beads to the expanse of his skin, he suddenly felt so viciously cold.

The silence was too heavy, invading every inch of the space.

His world here was so void of everything he wanted. The satisfaction of orgasm was washed away by the sudden weight of everything else. Moments ago he’d been so confident and carefree in the throes of pleasure. It hadn’t just been him here on the mattress. He’d been tangled up in _his_ arms, the arms of a lover that he now realized wasn’t real.

Black was nothing more than an idea…as was Lacey.

He grit his teeth together hard.

Now he was thrust back into his own body, left to rot with confusion and uncertainty. Thoughts of his own sexuality, his identity buzzed like flies drawn to a corpse they knew was breaking down. That’s all he was doing anymore…decaying.

Lance felt the hot burn in the back of his throat, sadness he didn’t know where to store, and so it bubbled to the surface. Black wasn’t real, Lacey wasn’t real; they were all just beautiful facades he built to shelter himself from the storm that was brewing in the back of his head.

He outreached his fingers, clutching them around the shape of his cellphone.

_“Did you cum baby?”_

Lance swallowed the knot in his esophagus. It scratched like thorns all the way down.

_“Of course I did stud. Consider me reduced to a puddle.”_

Lance tried to feign his usual cocky attitude; it was easily accomplished through the barrier of a phone screen. Text made it so much easier to _fake it._

His stomach coiled tight.

He’d become so very good at the art of faking. That’s all he was, a fake.

Lance pressed his palm against his eyes, his breath hitching on a sob. The surface of his safe little world was cracking and he was in danger of coming apart. He didn’t know Black’s real name, or even what he looked like. The person on the other end of the phone was nothing more than a blurred, dirty dream that came to Lance in the middle of the night.

To Black, Lance was a lovely woman, beautiful and wild…because that’s what Lance needed to be…sometimes. The lines of his gender identity were foggy at the very best, slipping like sand through his fingers. He didn’t know who he was, who he wanted to be.

College had opened some doors for him as far as his sexuality was concerned, but there were days he still struggled with that too.

Everyone else seemed to have something. A title at the very least…he had, nothing, just a swirling sea of thoughts that came and went like high tide.

_“I wish I could see you right now.”_

Every fiber of the young man’s being froze.

Black had never said anything along those lines before. This was new and Lance had no idea how to even begin to approach it. He didn’t need new and unexpected. Not tonight. Black was his constant, a world away and not real enough to be frightening. Lance could live out his fantasies without the fear of judgment. He wanted to keep it that way.

_“You’re cute. Sweet dreams, xoxo.”_

Lance thrust the phone away from him, as if it had suddenly grown fangs and limbs. He could feel his heart racing like a prized steed in his chest. The thunder of hooves drowned out everything else. There was just the blood rushing in his ears and the queasy sensation in his gut.

He forced himself upward.

He needed to clean himself off and he needed to sleep.

That was all.

He just needed sleep.

*****

Lance wasn’t even sure what time it was when he dragged his sorry carcass out of the tangles of his sheets. His feet were unsteady beneath him, his head lost out in the woods in a fog too thick for his liking. He stepped into the welcoming mouth of the warm shower.

He stood stark still, a hand coming to press against the sockets of his tired eyes. Exhaustion wasn’t enough of a word for the feeling clinging to his bones. He was so far beyond that, both physically and mentally strained.

_I wish I could see you right now._

The phrase washed over him along with the spray of water. Lance reached downward slowly and cranked the hot water knob all the way to the left. Maybe if the water was scalding enough he could sear away the memory of how that one stupid sentence had made him feel.

What would Black’s voice have sounded like…saying those words? Would he have a deep voice that could get all the hairs on the back of Lance’s neck to stand on end? Something baritone but soft, Lance could just imagine his laugh would be so perfect. Lance’s name would sound so good on Black’s lips.

Lacey. Lacey would sound so good on Black’s lips.

That was only his _sometimes_ name, his occasional title. Black’s was nothing more than an alias as well. For all Lance knew, Black was telling just as much of a tall tale about his identity as Lance was…

Maybe he really was just chasing his tail in circles. Black was just a make believe thing created to pass the time. He wasn’t tangible. He wasn’t _real._

Then why did Lance’s heart keep pounding against the cage of his ribs? Why wouldn’t this fluttering sensation down deep within his belly dissipate? It felt like some sort of schoolyard crush and he couldn’t stand that he’d allowed it to become that. This was just supposed to be something to keep his mind off of his looming confusion over his own identity.

Lance grabbed the loofa from his shelf and squirted a healthy amount of body-wash onto his skin. He scrubbed harshly, rasping away at his arms, hoping that maybe with enough effort he could scrape away all of the nasty little bits of uncertainty. But they clung to him like burs. They refused to come loose.

Lance swallowed the tingle at the back of his throat.

****

With a warm sweater pulled over his head and pair of sweatpants tugged up his hips he lazily made his way to the shared portion of his and Hunk’s apartment. Lance nearly jumped right out of his skin as he immediately realized he was not alone in the home.

Lance yelped and in turn this caused Hunk to jump and nearly drop the plate he held in is hands.

“Holy shit what are you doing home!?” Lance barked clutching his chest tightly.

Hunk gave him a quizzical expression and set his platter of food down on the kitchen bar.

“Dude it’s like two in the afternoon. I’m done with classes for the day,” Hunk said as he pulled out a stool and plopped himself down into it.

Lance groaned and made his way over to the tabletop, occupying his own seat across from Hunk. He’d slept through both his classes of the day. He guessed his body had really needed the slumber.

“Damn, I can’t believe I slept that late…” Lance grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck tiredly.

Hunk took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, raising a brow at his roommate.

“Late night rendezvous with the online guy?”

Hunk never missed a beat. The ever intelligent man could see right through Lance like a screen door frame.

Lance fiddled with the hem of his sweater sleeve.

“Yeah,” Lance muttered.

Hunk made a small sound of understanding.

“You’ve been staying up late a lot of nights talking with him…you know his name yet?” Hunk questioned delicately.

He knew Lance tended to get defensive about the situation.

“No. I don’t want to know his name. It’s just a pastime,” Lance assured softly.

Hunk grunted.

“You sure about that?” He asked looking to Lance softly.

“Yeah. It’s nothing,” Lance repeated.

Even as he spoke the words he didn’t believe them, and he knew they wouldn’t get by Hunk.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. We’ve known each other for years buddy. You just…seem pretty attached to whatever this is…” Hunk shrugged.

Lance sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I just…I dunno. He thinks I’m Lacey. I don’t know how he’d take knowing I identify as a guy in real life. And besides, for all I know he could be some creep that’s just playing me for a sucker. Thinking too much about it makes my stomach hurt,” Lance babbled quickly.

Hunk nodded.

“I think you need to get out of the house for a bit. Maybe get your mind off of it. Keith, Allura and I are all going to play pool down at The Dirty Sock tonight, you should come,” Hunk said offering Lance a bright smile.

Lance pondered the idea, resting his chin in the curve of his palm.

“Yeah, I’ll tag along,” Lance said with a slow nod.

*****

Lance adjusted his pool cue and lined up the shot. He let the wooden stick loose, the shimmering spheres cracked together loudly and he successfully sunk the ten-ball in the corner pocket. He celebrated with a little shuffle of his feet and bowed dramatically.

He was five beers into the night, strong ciders that had just a smidge higher alcohol content than a regular drink. And they were doing their job well, taking the edge off the dark shadow that had been following him around for weeks. He just couldn’t seem to shake the damned thing…but the sticky buzz of the beers that vibrated on his skin lessened it enough to be bearable. The big thing was scolded, having had its nose smacked and now it was just lurking in the corner of the loud little pub. It would be back as soon as Lance sobered up, with all its teeth and nasty thoughts…but for now…Lance was free of its heaviness.

Allura clapped her hands together enthusiastically as she leaned on the edge of one of the high top tables surrounding the space.

“Matt, he is kicking your _ass_ dude!!” Allura yelled over the drone of the music.

The young man she’d addressed laughed and circled the pool table, searching for any hope of a good shot.

“Jeez, Allura did not tell me I’d be up against a goddamned pool shark!!” Matt laughed heartily as his eyes swept across the velvet green to Lance.

Lance casually approached where Matt stood, looking smug as ever, knowing he’d pretty much already won the game. He was too far ahead for Matt to have any sort of prayer of catching up at this point. And Lance had only missed _one_ shot. And he would blame that on the beers. Sober Lance wouldn’t have missed. He almost never missed.

“Sorry, should I have gone easier on you huh, new guy?” Lance jeered leaning in close to Matt’s face.

Matt’s lip tilted into an amused grin.

“No way. I’m rather enjoying being bent over and spanked by you,” He countered smugly.

Lance couldn’t stifle the stupid laugh that fell off his lips, both men devolving into a fit of drunken giggles. Keith groaned somewhere behind them and Lance could just make out something that sounded like “ _get a room”_ from the dark haired man over the music.

Allura had brought Matt along and the young man was nice enough. Lance was playing on his usual antics of being the flirt of the friend group and it was working well to keep him from getting lost in his head. Matt gave him something new to focus on, and he was genuinely enjoying the other man’s good humor. It was all just a divergence from the storm in Lance’s brain…and deep down he knew it, but in the haze the alcohol had him in, that didn’t matter. He could find distraction in the white of Matt’s smile and the tone of his voice.

Matt lined up to take the shot and missed terribly.

The sandy blonde haired man groaned and smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead.

After a few more futile efforts from Matt’s end, Lance ended the game with victory, which came as no surprise to anyone in the group. Lance was notoriously good at pool after all. Even when drunk.

“I need another beer to drown my defeat in,” Matt said feigning dramatic woe.

“I need another one too, but a celebratory beer in honor of kicking your ass,” Lance teased with a smile.

“Get me another one while you are at it!” Hunk called as he hopped down off of his chair, grabbing a pool cue as he prepared to challenge Keith to a match.

“Sure thing big guy,” Lance called over his shoulder as he thrust his thumb into the air.

“Shit, I need to go grab some cash out of the ATM, their card reader is down,” Matt cursed as he looked into his wallet and found it void of bills.

“I’ll go with ya,” Lance offered kindly.

The two men weaved their way through the crowd of people, the air thick with the scents of smoke, sweat and booze. Matt reached his hand backward as to not lose Lance and Lance took the offering willingly. He didn’t really know why the sensation of their bare skin against one another struck some kind of cord deep down in Lance’s being. Matt’s palm was soft and warm as it curled around Lance’s tugging the young man through the teeming mass of bar goers, nighttime animals, the lot of them.

Lance supposed he was no different, just another animal prowling the dimly lit space.

Matt’s hand tightened around Lance’s own as they broke the throng of drunken beasts and finally made it to the other side of the place. And then the touch was gone, the mission accomplished Lance was let free. Immediately Lance wanted it to return. There was a big hole gaping within him, one that he’d not even known was there-until now of course. Now it was throbbing and hollow and he was so very aware that it had been full, if only for a second. The sensation of contact, of something more than touching shoulders with Hunk while they sat on the couch watching trash reality shows, it had poured into that vacant space.

But now it was gone.

The unoccupied space hurt a little, Lance now realized.

Or a lot, maybe it hurt a lot.

It was hard to tell in his inebriated state.

The ATM machine sat in the very back of the establishment, tucked away passed the far hallway leading to the bathrooms. The long lengthy stretch was dimly lit, the fluorescent light overhead threatening to go out at any second. It buzzed and hummed, dead bugs captured behind the frosted glass casting dark dots of shadows on the concrete flooring. It smelled faintly of vomit being in this proximity to the toilets. Lance was too drunk to be bothered by the foul stench.

Matt leaned with his shoulder against the machine, fumbling for his debit card, eyes flicking to where Lance stood with his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. The warmth from Matt’s skin still clung to Lance’s palm, and he really didn’t want it to fade.

Matt smiled, the influence of the beers showing in how his flushed cheeks and his half-lidded, lazy eyes.

His body language was so inviting, he might as well have had a welcome mat rolled out right there by his feet. Lance shifted his weight, stepping a little closer to Matt, the digital screen from the machine illuminating both of their faces in ghostly light.

Matt’s smile grew.

Lance figured there was only one way of gathering more of that deliciously warm tingle to fill up his hollow spaces.

Lance reached out; hooking a slim finger in Matt’s belt-loop casually, and then his eyes searched the other man’s face diligently. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for…permission maybe. But swimming in the darks of Matt’s pupils Lance found his prize. The other man’s gaze was fixed firmly on Lance, refusing to look anywhere else. His debit card was still in hand but his concern about fetching money seemed to have gotten washed away with the presence of something vastly more important.

The blonde man tucked the card away in his back pocket, its importance lost to the winds.

And then his hands were cupping Lance’s beautiful cheekbones.

His hands were _so_ soft.

Lance was hardly aware that they had gravitated even closer, blocking the machine from anyone else wanting to use it and that didn’t matter to either of them. Matt’s apex pressed into Lance’s, slightly shorter than Lance but only by about a half inch at best. They were nose to nose. Lance could smell the other man’s stagnant, beer laced breath.

Lance let his lids slide closed, blinds allowed to snap shut.

Their mouths pressed together firmly, the hot slide of wet lips burning Lance’s senses down to ash. Matt’s fingers buried in the tangle of Lance’s soft caramel locks, the other curling around slender hips, connecting them in a closer tangle. Lance’s tongue parted the seam of Matt’s lips, lithe organ sliding over the tops of his teeth and the hollow of his cheek. It was a sloppy dance, a little too hard and a bit off rhythm but it was to be expected with how many drinks they’d both ingested.

Lance couldn’t even be bothered to care that he might be remembered as the shitty kisser after the incident. It was too good in the present to be worried with such things. Behind Lance’s eyelids his subconscious was at work. He painted and molded the warm body before him until it was a creature, a beast with black fur and teeth sharp as knives. And there in the cramped little hallway, it was Black that had his tongue down Lance’s throat. Lance whined into the kiss, his nerves aflame with want. His drunken state told him this was his online lover and his foggy imagination made it so.

Lance pulled away, lips slick with saliva from another.

He opened his eyes.

And there was Matt, who was funny and handsome in his own right.

But he was Matt…not Black.

Lance’s eyes widened as his heart dropped into his stomach. Matt was real and not who Lance needed him to be.

Fear rose from the soles of Lance’s shoes and consumed the length of his body.

Lance’s ears buzzed with sound. He could see Matt mouth what he thought was an _“are you ok?”_ but he couldn’t form the words to answer him with. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Black but he was fake and Matt was here and tangible but that was _terrifying._

Lance suddenly felt like he was going to throw up.

“I’ve gotta go.” Lance slurred before turning to flee.

“Wait, Lance I’m sorry…” Matt started and the look on his face cut Lance down to his core.

He looked so regretful and Lance hated himself.

But he couldn’t stand to stay another second.

He knew there was a back door around here somewhere, and so he blindly headed in whatever direction he thought might get him there. Lance found the back exit, hands fumbling to shove the heavy thing open. He finally succeeded and stumbled out into the empty alleyway. He took two steps to the left and braced against the wall, losing the little bit of nourishment he’d scarfed down for lunch. He gagged and sputtered as the wet sound of vomit hitting asphalt assaulted his ears.

He leaned heavy on the brick building, the sturdy structure being the only thing holding him up as he shuddered weakly.

He spit down onto the ground, ridding himself of the vile taste of stomach fluids, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

His head wouldn’t stop spinning.

He just needed to go home.

He’d thought getting out, finding the fulfillment he needed in another person, someone real, would solve everything. Now he’d only managed to make it so much worse. He was so stupid. He’d left Matt to wonder what he’d possibly done wrong, when really it was all Lance. Lance was the fuck up. He always was. Just a stormy sea of toxic thoughts and he was about to capsize into them.

The apartment was within walking distance and he was pretty sure he could make it there even in his current state.

The midnight chill licked at him through his jacket, trying to work its way up into his sleeves. It was a persistent beast, chewing and biting at his ankles. He felt so _hollow._

It took him three good tries to finally get his key in the front lock victoriously. He shoved the door open and stood in the mouth of the dark, silent home. The cold shadows welcomed him home with open arms. The young man slammed the door shut and stumbled to his room on unsteady feet. He managed to get himself to the bathroom unsure whether or not his stomach was done throwing its walleyed fit or not. He dragged a mess of blankets from his bed down onto the bathroom floor and curled up right there on the hard-wood.

Why was he feeling this way?

About a person he didn’t even know the first thing about!?

It was ridiculous and he was only going to harm himself in the end. Black was just a character and he was just hopeless.

Lance’s fingers curled around the shape of his phone.

He was far too drunk and he knew better, but the demons on his shoulders only pushed him forward.

He clicked the private message. His fingers were slow as he typed, trying not to misspell anything but he knew the effort was futile in the end. He just didn’t want to look like a stupid sloppy drunk. He’d hide that away too, just like everything else.

_“I think I have feelings for you, which is stupid…I don’t even know your real name or what you look like.”_

Lance hit send before he could second guess the action. It was done; there was no grabbing the message and hauling it backward. Lance watched the screen with half-lidded eyes, his heart beating like thunder beneath his skin. The sound was deafening, throbbing in his already aching head.

Then the three little dots appeared.

Lance for a moment thought he might throw up again.

_“That’s not stupid. I’d…kind of been feeling the same way honestly. Talking to you is the best part of my day. I could tell you my real name if you want?”_

Lance laid there staring at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Minutes ticked past and his head was swimming. Right and wrong were so blurred together now he had no hope of untangling them. He wasn’t who he said he was. He didn’t outwardly appear as the gender he preferred for the character Black knew him by. Was that wrong? Would Black care if he wasn’t female identifying in the real world? Did that matter?

_“I’m afraid I won’t be what you expected. You will be disappointed.”_

Lance’s fingers trembled as he typed.

Then he let the message free.

The truth tore him to ribbons and left him tattered on the floor.

_“I don’t think I could possibly be disappointed. Your personality is much too amazing.”_

Black’s message had Lance’s heart feeling like it was going to pop. He was being so kind. But would that fade when he learned Lance had been _lying._

Tears cut warm lines down the flesh of Lance’s cheeks and ran the slope of his neck. The air around him was suddenly so thick; he was having trouble breathing it in. His lungs ached; his body swam and pitched over murky waters.

_“My name is Shiro. I guess nice to ‘actually’ meet you lol.”_

Shiro.

Lance allowed the name to sit on the back of his tongue, savoring and rolling it through his teeth. It felt strong, but soft, something pleasant and new. He whispered it aloud to himself. The name danced across his rumbled bed-sheets he’d curled around him and through his hair. Black was suddenly Shiro and with one sentence the person on the other side of the phone screen was forming into a real person. He was no longer just the tidbit of an idea. He was so real and vivid and the transformation was utterly terrifying.

Lance was barely aware that he was holding his breath. His heart felt like an ice pick against his sternum, banging and rattling so loud it seemed to echo through the room.

He brought the phone screen to his face, aware that he’d received a follow up message to the one prior. He wasn’t ready; he knew that from the moment he saw it, it was a photo. He’d never prepared himself for this moment. He’d not allowed his mind to settle on such a thought for more than a few seconds. That was dangerous territory he’d not wanted to delve into. But here he was, in the moment he’d promised would not happen.

Lance’s eyes were gifted by a bright photo; his finger hesitantly tapped the screen to enlarge the image.

His stomach felt like it had just fallen down an elevator shaft, floor after floor until it splattered to the ground. Perfectly framed in the phone screen was a man that he didn’t know, but felt like he did.

Lance had never laid eyes on anyone so perfect.

Shiro had dark hair, ebony as a raven’s wings, and bright stormy day eyes. Lance couldn’t stop himself from drowning in them. He stepped into the deep end and he didn’t even care that water was filling his lungs and bubbling up his throat. The young man was smiling for the photo, a selfie having been taken on what looked to be some sort of hiking trail. His sleeveless shirt gave away pale swells of muscle that stretched the front of the clothing. He was overwhelmingly handsome, painfully so.

Lance felt the sobs come on heavier.

A perfect person like that wouldn’t want someone so confused and broken as Lance was. Lance was a mess and Shiro was beautiful and he didn’t stand a chance in hell.

This realization flooded coldly through Lance’s nerves.

The chill from the floor he laid upon suddenly crept up into his flesh, settling into the depths of him.

He hated himself so much.

He was so worthless.

_“You are so handsome. I’m sorry…I’m just not what you need.”_

The words went through Lance like hot iron. They sliced deep, through flesh, fat, muscle and finally down to the bone. He was so sorry he’d ever gotten himself into this. He was sorry to Shiro and himself and he was so drunk. His vision swam with glossy moisture as he tossed his phone away from him and dragged himself upward to vomit into the toilet. There wasn’t much to give, leaving him to heave dryly over loud and pathetic sobs.

He was just a bag of flesh full of fucking lies and Shiro didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve this confused, ugly, reckless creature Lance was.

Lance rested his forehead on his arms, tears dropping down into the soiled toilet water.

He’d just forget Shiro had ever existed, he’d allowed this to go too far and now he needed to erase it all.

*****

“FUCK!” Lance yelped as he accidentally jabbed his thumb into a glob of fresh hot glue.

The young man immediately popped the wounded digit into his mouth, hissing at the dull throb the burn left behind.

“You ok?” Hunk asked in concern.

The bigger man sat on the living room floor across from Lance, a sewing needle held in his left hand. Lance nodded and inspected his finger with knit eyebrows.

“Yeah I’m fine, just burned the shit out of myself,” Lance muttered as he went back to his project.

The living room floor lay strewn with random bits of fur and fabric, sewing kits open and some thread unraveled across the rug. It was a colorful, beautiful, creative mess in all aspects. Hunk finished his stitch and tied the thread off before resting his hand on the fluffy mass that was his fursuit head. His gaze was concerned as it rested on Lance’s frustrated form.

Lance was usually far more chipper when it came to the ‘day before con’ prep time. Normally the young man wouldn’t stop babbling about how he couldn’t wait to see the faces of their friends they only met up with at this event. Lance _always_ got excited to wear his infamous fursuit, Lacey. When in suit Lance instantly took on the face of his fursona. He was louder, if that was even possible, more rambunctious and always became the center of attention.

But now, there was nothing but a dark scowl etched into the lines of his face as he hunched over the fursuit paw he had in hand. Lance carefully wrangled the last brand new claw into place with glue and held it there to ensure it stuck.

Something wasn’t right with this scene.

Working on Lacey always had Lance lighting up like a newly decorated Holiday tree…but there seemed to be something dark and heavy settled on Lance’s shoulders.

And he’d been like this for the last two weeks.

“Lance…is something up? You’ve just been…well you haven’t really been yourself lately,” Hunk tread very carefully into the conversation.

Lance didn’t look up at Hunk for a very long time. He continued to stare down at the paw as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He ran his fingers through the short, snowy fur and breathed in deep.

“I’m just going through a rough patch,” Lance said quietly.

Hunk frowned.

“You…wanna talk about it?” Hunk pried softly.

Lance was a clam shell, problems had to be addressed with the utmost caution or he’d snap shut and it would take all the muscle in the world to prod him open again.

Lance chewed his lip and tasted blood. He really needed some chap-stick. He also really needed a shower as he couldn’t remember if it had been two or three days since his last one. He just generally couldn’t be bothered to upkeep himself. Not with a hole in his chest the size of the Grand Canyon. The massive crater was taking up all the space in him and there was room for nothing else. All of his motivation, his joy, it was all being sucked down into the dark, gaping, void.

He swallowed but it did nothing to wet his barren throat.

“You remember the online guy?” Lance whispered as he fiddled with the hem of his glove.

He avoided eye contact with Hunk but he could feel the other man’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Hunk answered softy.

“That night I disappeared from the bar? Well…I kind of kissed Matt and then I panicked and went home…and I sort of confessed I had feelings for him? Which is so stupid I know because I didn’t even know _who_ he was really!! But I was a drunk mess and I did it and then he tells me his real name and he sends me a photo of him. He’s…he’s just…gorgeous and I…I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, who I was. I’m not…I’m just not anything like my character and I just ghosted him. I left him hanging in the dark and part of me hates myself for that. I’m scared we had a connection and I’m just running away from it,” Lance rambled all in one breath, so fast Hunk really had to listen to catch everything.

Lance sucked in a much needed breath after the long winded explanation.

“Lance…” Hunk sighed.

Lance shook his head.

“A lot of people don’t get it and I’m too tired to explain the whole ‘I’m one way in character and another in real life’ thing,” Lance huffed.

Hunk shrugged his shoulders up.

“Lance I think you are being too hard on yourself. That’s the _point_ of these characters,” Hunk held up his fursuit head as further emphasis, “To be someone different and express ourselves. Lacey is a part of you. I don’t think you should be so worried about how others view you.”

Lance shifted his foot, crossing his long legs that were adorned in warm grey sweatpants. Hunk’s words soothed him.. Maybe he was just overthinking it all. His shoes were well worn and made for running, and he didn’t know how to just stand still. At the first inkling of something frightening he took flight when maybe he should have just been bracing for impact.

Before Lance knew it, the hot slide of a tear was traveling down his cheek. Hunk heaved himself up from the living room floor and treaded over to where Lance sat. He wrapped warm, familiar arms around Lance’s shoulders and Lance pressed his palms against the bigger man’s back, clinging to him as he let the pent up tears loose.

Hunk smiled into Lance’s shoulder.

“Big crybaby,” Hunk teased gently.

Lance’s lips cracked into a small grin.

“Oh fuck you,” Lance sniffed.

*****

Lance slid across his room, his socks giving him just the amount of slide he needed to make it to the other side. He plopped down onto his mattress and tugged on his sneakers, tightened the laces and then grabbed his two massive bags from where they sat on the floor.

“Lance! You almost ready?” Hunk’s voice echoed from the main room of the apartment.

“Yeah! Coming!” Lance called back as he trudged out of his room, a bag balanced on each of his hips, one hosting his full suit and the other his clothes.

Hunk cocked an eyebrow at his roommate.

“You know we are just going for the weekend right?” Hunk sighed.

Lance tilted up his nose and marched passed the other man.

“I don’t know what I might feel like wearing! And I had to bring all my face masks and scrubs! I get super sweaty in my suit!” Lance griped back over his shoulder as he trudged to the front door.

Hunk shook his head and followed the eccentric man.

Three hours on the road came paired with a plentiful array of snacks and stories swapped between the two seats of Hunk’s SUV. Lance could feel the anticipation building with every mile that they traveled. Fur-Universe was the biggest con near them and a long running tradition that they attended every year. It was a little bit of normalcy that Lance really needed after the rollercoaster that his past few weeks had been.

It had been a little over two weeks since he’d responded to Shiro. He couldn’t stand the thought of it all and so he’d just blocked him. Lance leaned his chin in the cup of his palm and allowed his eyes to wander out the vehicle window. Putting a name to him was so strange. Someone that had just been ‘black’ for months suddenly had a birth given name and it was still sitting heavy in Lance’s guts. Sometimes he thought maybe he’d gone about it all wrong. But undoing what he’d already done seemed so impossible now. Shiro most likely thought Lance had just been catfishing him at this point and had just abandoned the façade when it got too far.

Lance squeezed his eyes closed.

He missed the good morning messages.

He longed for the conversations that started silly but turned deep and meaningful at three in the morning.

He missed how charming Shiro had been.

He missed a lot of things, but they were losses now, he might as well kiss them goodbye and send them on their way.

Lance chose to drown the thoughts by turning up the radio quickly.

The hotel was just as grand as Lance had remembered. He drug himself from the confines of the vehicle, having been folded up like origami for far too long he desperately needed to stretch. There were butterflies fluttering up into his throat. He needed this, an entire weekend where he could just leave his human, boring shell behind. He’d be Lacey for three straight days and his soul desperately needed the refreshment of her comfort.

Lance shoved open the door to their room, an eleventh floor space with a pretty damned good view, Lance realized as he walked over to the bed nearest to the window. He dropped his bags on the bed with a ‘thud’ and ripped the scratchy feeling hotel curtains back, allowing the glistening sunshine to bathe the room in brilliance. He breathed in deep. He couldn’t wait for the soft sensation of his costume all around him, knowing that he appeared on the outside as he did on the inside. This was a shift he needed more than ever right now.

He eagerly unzipped the bag that safely held his fursuit and smiled softly.

It was like coming home after a long while away.

*****

Everything outside of the eyeholes of Lance’s suit was a carnival of sights and sounds. He’d lost track of all sense of time, of self. He had completely encompassed himself within the safe haven of Lacey’s fur. Her walls held him safe and tight and warm. Nothing could get him behind her shield. His legs were tired from the days’ worth of traveling, running here and there meeting up with old faces and meeting some that were new. He’d already blown about half of his con money he’d saved on various stuffed animals and commissions from the artist’s alley.

He hadn’t felt like this in so long, so free and wild, a creature in his own element.

Lance readjusted his hand-paw as Hunk sat down against the wall of the grand hallway. Hunk’s massive head was laid on his lap, the imposing horns of his bull sona resting on his stomach. Hunk’s character, Dozer, a great big bovine, fit his sweet and yet powerful nature perfectly.

“Keith just made it here. He said his friend was running late but they want to meet up for dinner. That sound good Lace?” Hunk asked looking up from the phone screen in his hands.

Lance plopped himself down on the floor, resting his head on Hunk’s thigh.

“Sure I guess we can go hang out with that loser,” Lance laughed lightly.

Hunk giggled.

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

Lance patted Hunk’s leg with his paw.

“Good, tell him!” Lance joked with a laugh.

“So who’s this friend? You know them?” Lance inquired as he sat up and grabbed his tail to fiddle with it.

Hunk shook his head.

“No idea,” Hunk shrugged.

Lance skipped along behind Hunk, getting preoccupied with other passing fursuiters every once and a while, or stopping as someone asked for a photo of the two of them. Lance’s ego swelled with every snap of phone camera. He loved the attention, every little ounce of it.

He was extremely happy to be on the way to some kind of nourishment. The entire day spent roaming had left his stomach feeling progressively emptier. An impatient snarl of his gut reminded him that it was no longer waiting silently. Lance pressed a shushing hand to the fur of his stomach to ease the sound.

The restaurant was tucked in the far side of the hotel, several floors up giving off a stunning view as the two friends neared the entrance. Lance looked out over the endless city, the buildings bathed in all the colors of the setting sun. It really was a gorgeous sight to behold.

Lance was barely paying attention to following Hunk anymore, too lost in the sights before him.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Keith’s voice over the buzz of the room.

“Took y’all long enough!” Keith shouted.

Hunk snorted as they approached Keith, who was leaned against the front staircase of the eating establishment.

“Oh you were the one who was late!” Hunk defended.

Keith rolled his eyes.

“It’s all his fault he had a test today,” Keith laughed gesturing to his company.

“Hunk, Lacey, this is my buddy Shiro,” He continued.

Lance could feel the color rushing out of his face behind the safety of his mask. It was like having a bucket of cold ice water dumped over his head.

He would know that fursuit anywhere, and the character art on the badge around his neck. He stood with his fursuit head tucked under his arm, allowing the cool air to run over his face.

Shiro. That name he’d learned weeks ago in the middle of the night and he’d run from it. He’d run from _him._

His heart withered as Shiro's eyes rested on him. and Lance was aware the moment realization hit.

Shiro’s face screwed up slightly, he was so much more beautiful in person, Lance was suddenly so aware.

“L-Lacey?” Shiro questioned stepping toward Lance.

Lance had nowhere to go, and so he just stood still, fingers interlaced nervously. There were tears already forming in the pits of his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. Not in his safe place. The stupid crush from far away was suddenly staring him right in the face after he’d fallen off the face of the planet for _weeks._ Could he even muster the courage to explain? There weren’t enough excuses in the world to make it right.

Hunk and Keith gave each other confused glances at the exchange before them.

Lance still couldn’t find his voice.

Shiro’s brows were knit together, dark heavy arches that hung over such glistening, beautiful grey eyes. Lance swallowed but it stung all the way down. He tried to open his mouth to form words but all that came forth was a soft croak. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Lacey…is that…you?” Shiro asked again, closer then, giving Lance a soft, concerned expression.

Lance closed his eyes, hands shaking as he brought them to the base of his head. He breathed in deep and curled his fingers around the cowl. With a firm tug and the slide of fur and foam, Lance pulled the mask off. His eyes quickly hit the ground, hair slightly sweaty and sticking out in all directions. This was the least ideal presentation of himself for such a situation but he had very little say in the matter.

He clutched Lacey’s head tightly to his chest and finally dared to meet eyes with the man before him.

Someone so familiar and yet still a stranger.

Shiro’s eyes were wide and Lance searched every inch of the bigger man’s face for disgust but for some reason couldn’t seem to find it.

“I…didn’t…know how to tell you…I’m not…” Lance stammered, trying not to let the tears fall but the shakiness in his voice was betraying him.

And then to Lance’s utter surprise Shiro reached a very timid hand upward, fingertips still covered by a jet black pair of handpaws, and brushed Lance’s cheek very softly. Lance looked upward, Shiro being far taller than he was.

“Didn’t know how to tell me what? That you are absolutely _gorgeous?”_ Shiro whispered.

The smile draped on his face had Lance’s nerves melting down around him. The gears in his head caught and jammed, unable to turn and process thought for several seconds.

“What?” Lance asked the question but he had heard Shiro just fine, it was more a reaction than anything else.

“Did you think I wouldn’t understand?” Shiro asked.

The two of them were standing so close then, the moving bodies around them fading away into background noise. Nothing existed beyond their personal space. Nothing mattered in that moment but the words being exchanged between them.

Lance wiped at his eye pathetically.

“I didn’t know…so I just…I just convinced myself you wouldn’t. I got scared,” Lance whispered screwing his eyes shut.

“Oh, Lacey, no…” Shiro started, but paused.

“Do you prefer Lacey?” He questioned kindly.

Lance chewed his lip and scuffed his pawpad on the carpeted hotel flooring.

“When I’m in my suit yeah…my…other name is Lance,” He said dropping his eyes to the floor again.

Lance looked over Shiro’s shoulder to his very confused friends.

“I think we are worrying our friends,” Lance attempted a weak laugh.

Shiro looked backward and smiled.

“Yeah I think we are. After we eat…do you want to go somewhere and talk?” Shiro asked softly.

Lance nodded.

“Can…I hug you? This feels so weird, it’s like I know you but I don’t really…” Lance asked shyly.

Shiro nodded and carefully wrapped Lance into a warm hug. The action was timid at first, both a little stiff and nervous, but as Lance relaxed and laced his fur striped arms around Shiro’s neck the exchange quickly melded into something so natural it almost hurt. Lance nuzzled his face into the black fur of Shiro’s suit and he could feel the massive man take in a deep breath, the hard muscle beneath his suit pressing against the foam formed breasts of Lance’s own costume.

“You’re really big,” Lance giggled into the soft fur.

Shiro snorted out a laugh and curled his arms a little tighter around the slighter man.

“I get that a lot,” Shiro giggled, a cheekiness hanging on the tone of his voice.

Lance leaned backward and gave the other man a wry little smile.

“It’s been four seconds and was that _already_ a dirty joke?” Lance teased shoving playfully at Shiro’s chest.

Shiro shrugged up his shoulders sheepishly.

Lance sat next to Shiro at the shared table. With a little bit of explanation Hunk and Keith’s concerned expressions melded into curiosity and many questions.

Lance liked the sound of Shiro’s voice, hearing him laugh for the very first time had his eyes glistening with interest. His tone was deep, his laughter hearty and if it came on a little too strong he let loose of an accidental snort. Everything about it had Lance hanging on his every sentence, finding himself on a roller coaster ride, looping along with each pitch and dip of his voice. Lance sat on the edge of his seat, far to the right, just as close as he could get to the chair Shiro occupied.

Lance downed the food, even though his hunger had been almost completely doused by nerves. He knew his body needed it, and so he shoveled the nourishment in, eyes never leaving Shiro’s form.

And then Shiro’s gaze flicked to him.

Lance’s cheeks filled with heat.

He stirred his straw around his drink, trying not to stare for too long. Shiro was kind, soft-spoken but funny. Lance had to remind himself again and again that this wasn’t a dream. He feared any moment now he’d be jarred awake to that lonely, empty bedroom he called his own. But it didn’t happen.

As he cupped his glass and brought it toward his lips, the perspiration wetting the meat of his palm, he knew it was real.

The clatter of forks against plates and laughter here and there were a soft backdrop for the setting.

As Lance reached for the salt, Shiro did too.

Their fingers brushed and it sent a wave of wildfire sparking up Lance’s skin.

It was a thousand times more intense then when Matt had grabbed his hand at the bar so many weeks ago. He’d been so touch starved then, he still was now. But this was something far beyond what he’d been prepared for. Lance took his arm back peevishly, muttering an apology and Shiro had only offered him a smile then passed the small shaker to him first.

With the tab paid and their stomachs full, the group meandered out of the restaurant lazily.

Hunk paused, looking to Shiro and then to Lance.

“We were going to hit up the concert in an hour…you two coming?” Hunk asked with a slim smile.

He already knew the answer of course.

Lance shook his head.

“Shiro and I were probably going to go off and talk a bit…” Lance said with a shrug.

Shiro nodded in agreement.

Keith rolled his eyes and cross his arms.

“This is so typical, of course the one friend I bring that I’m sure won’t run off with you…still runs off with you,” Keith groaned playfully gesturing at Lance.

Lance stuck his tongue out at Keith in response.

“Y’all have fun. Don’t get into trouble!” Hunk called over his shoulder as he steered Keith away.

Lance placed his fursuit head back on his shoulders, then looked up to Shiro.

“Where do you want to go?” Shiro asked stepping a little closer to Lance.

“Somewhere not so noisy? There is a little sitting area on the eleventh floor, that’s where our room is. We could go there?” Lance offered, smiling behind his mask.

Shiro nodded.

“Sure.”

*****

Lance sat on the gaudy floral printed couch, his head sitting in his lap, trying not to use it to hide behind. It was a little scary, being so exposed. But Shiro seemed to like watching Lance’s face, and so he complied.

Shiro gave Lance just enough space on the small piece of furniture. They were two souls who had been so intimate when they didn’t know each other and now everything was tangible and new waters to navigate. They each treaded on cautious feet.

Shiro carefully took Lance’s tail in his hands, tracing the outlines of the stripes with his ungloved fingers. A little pile of discarded costume parts sat on the coffee table before them, each shedding just a little more as they talked.

Lance cracked off one of his typical jokes and their laughter consumed the space between them. As it died Shiro drew in a big breath.

“You are…amazing,” Shiro whispered as he leaned on the back of the couch.

Lance stiffened.

“I don’t know how you aren’t pissed at me…I just left you hanging…” Lance sighed.

“That doesn’t matter,” Shiro shrugged.

“I was just so drunk…and stupid…” Lance groaned.

“Did you mean it…that night when you said you had feelings for me? Or was that just the beers?” Shiro asked suddenly.

Lance paused, their eyes colliding for a moment, the silence thick as it settled.

“Yeah, I uh…I meant it,” Lance said looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

Electricity sparkled through Lance’s nerve endings as Shiro’s palm rested on his thigh.

“I meant it too, when I said it back. I know it’s the first time we’ve met, the first time I’ve gotten to really _see you_ , but I feel like I’ve known you for years,” Shiro’s voice dipped low.

Lance looked at him through a fan of dark lashes.

Lance did not shy away when Shiro’s fingers outreached for his. Warmth swarmed up his forearm as Shiro intertwined their fingers very hesitantly. Lance seemed to be accepting of the touch. Lance slowly scooted himself a little closer to Shiro on the couch. Shiro was so warm, Lance was captured in his gravitational pull and he couldn’t pry himself away. He wasn’t sure what was happening, why they had both suddenly gone so silent. Shiro’s eyes scanned him carefully, and Lance could see him suck down a deep breath.

Shiro’s free hand moved to gently press against the side of Lance’s cheek. The young man leaned into the touch, eyes barely open then, sighing softly.

“May I kiss you?” Shiro whispered suddenly.

Lance’s eyes flicked open, pools of blue enlarging as they sat there staring at each other for a very long series of seconds.

Lance wasn’t sure he remembered how to breathe. His tongue swelled in his mouth and rendered him incapable of creating an answer. He opened his lips then closed them, bobbing like a stupid fish out of water. The silence created a frown on Shiro’s face, his brows pressing together in regret.

“I’m sorry that was too much,” Shiro began to say but Lance very abruptly cut him off.

The lanky man, still half dressed in his fursuit came across the furniture, nearly in Shiro’s lap as he grabbed the other man’s face and pressed their mouths together. Shiro’s eyes went wide in surprise for a moment before his body caught up with his brain and he wrapped his arms around Lance’s shoulders.

Shiro pressed into the kiss, then, meeting the enthusiastic way Lance’s lips found his. The younger man’s tongue begged for entrance as he slid it along the wet seam of Shiro’s lips, and Shiro gave it permission more than willingly. Their lithe organs played together, Lance far more dominant in the kiss, exploring the tops of Shiro’s teeth, the hollow of his cheeks. Lance bullied Shiro backward, until the big man was leaned on the arm of the couch, Lance’s weight deposited across the tops of his thighs.

One of Lance’s hands fisted in the back of Shiro’s short cropped locks as the other tucked into the hem of his suit, so lost in each other everything else had fallen away.

All the fantasies they had weaved through text in the midnight hours were being written out in brilliant reality. This was a novel Lance would ride until the end. So many nights he’d found himself dancing with the idea of wanting Black to be real, of wanting him next to him in his sheets. Suddenly all the stupid wishing on stars in the sky and pennies in fountains brought this moment to him. Black was real, Shiro was black and black was real and he was _here._

Lance kissed harder.

He’d asked Lance’s pronouns, what name he preferred, because it mattered. To him it mattered and Lance was so overwhelmed by that it nearly hurt.

Emotion bubbled in Lance’s throat, a smile forming on the brim of his lips.

They broke away, gasping for air, eyes meeting hard, both a little flushed. Lance pressed them back together, nose scrunching against Shiro’s cheek as they melded. Shiro’s hands wrapped around Lance’s midsection, and one moved to his hip before pausing in consideration.

Lance took Shiro’s bottom lip between his perfect teeth and reached backward to guide Shiro’s hand to the round of his ass. Shiro followed his lead obediently.

Shiro’s big palm clenched a handful of his partner’s rear, barely able to clutch Lance’s actual skin through the foam padding. Lance huffed and nosed against Shiro’s cheek, his breathing winded and tattered.

Suddenly a wolf whistle from down the hall rattled them both out of their frantic display of affection. Lance jolted upward, only to be greeted by a group of con-goers headed back to their room. Lance cheekily scooted off of Shiro’s lap, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

He’d gotten so carried away in the moment he’d nearly forgotten they were in public, making quite the spectacle of themselves.

The two men devolved into a fit of giddy laughter, both blushing bright red.

“My room is on this floor…” Lance said slowly, peering to Shiro with big hopeful eyes.

“Did you want to maybe…go there instead?”

Shiro brushed a lock of Lance’s disheveled hair out of his eyes.

“Only if you want to,” Shiro smiled.

Lance ran his tongue across his teeth.

“Yeah, I really want to,” He answered confidently.

They gathered the piece and parts of their costumes and Lance took Shiro by the hand. He felt light as they sprinted down the lengthy hallway, never letting go of one another. He’d tucked his wallet into the back pocket of the backpack he carried, and rifling through all of his accumulated souvenirs to find it quickly became cumbersome.

Shiro rested his chin on Lance’s shoulder, arms snaking around him, big form pressing flush to his back.

“Your friend won’t mind?” Shiro asked, his breath ragged with what Lance knew to be arousal.

Lance finally came away with the key card, making a triumphant noise as he did so.

“Hunk? No he won’t mind. He and Keith won’t be back for _hours_ if they were going to that concert.” Lance said with a chuckle.

The light on the door flickered green and Lance shoved it open far too eagerly. He tugged Shiro inside, slamming the it behind their backs.

“We have plenty of time,” Lance whispered.

Shiro turned then, pressing Lance’s back to the wall firmly and Lance allowed one of his gloves to fall to the floor.

“Good, I like the sound of that,” Shiro nearly purred, mouth finding the slope of Lance’s neck diligently.

Lance groaned and grasped Shiro’s biceps, feeling the other man’s teeth worry into the soft flesh. Needy lips suctioned to Lance’s throat, sucking a dark ugly mark there, silent proof of what happened here that would stay with Lance into the morning. The sharp ache that sparkled down to Lance’s core was warm and welcome; it reminded him that this wasn’t a dreamscape he was wandering. It grounded him. It brought him home.

Lance made a soft gasp as his feet left the floor, his slender body being lifted into strong arms. He immediately wrapped his long legs around Shiro’s waist, a cumbersome task while still in his suit. The thick fur was quickly becoming far too hot for his liking. But that could wait, at least for a moment as Lance hung his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, enjoying the way Shiro showed off his immense strength by supporting Lance’s full weight.

Their mouths crammed together again, sloppy and wanting and Lance was spiraling down into the deep stickiness of need.

It licked at his heels, slithered up his legs and overcame him in one massive wave.

Lance sucked in a needy breath, silvery line of saliva running down his chin obscenely. The crown of his skull thudded into the wall as he arched his neck backward, giving Shiro access to the long length of skin. Shiro dragged his tongue across Lance’s Adam’s apple, feeling it dip as Lance drew down a hard swallow.

“ _Shiro…”_ Lance whined, squeezing his eyes closed tight as his fingers dug into ebony fur.

The bigger man shuddered as the name washed through him. His title sounded so good as it slipped off of Lance’s tongue.

“Fuck you are beautiful,” Shiro groaned, moving Lance’s suit aside to nip at his collar.

“Help me out of my suit, it’s too damned hot,” Lance panted.

Shiro chuckled wryly and set Lance down.

Lance took Shiro’s hand again, carefully settling Lacey’s head on the desktop along with his gloves. Shiro followed suit and then lent his full attention to the front of Lance’s costume. Big, careful fingers pinched the tiny silver clasp and drew it down gently. He peeled back the front of Lance’s outfit and Lance felt his heart beating harder.

This was something so personal, so terrifying. Lacey was his safety, his everything, and here he was allowing someone new to pull him from that shell. He was letting Shiro undo him layer by layer and somehow he wasn’t as afraid as he should have been. They hadn’t just met; he’d spent months getting to know this person through the screen of his phone, but now it wasn’t just pretend. Now he could touch Shiro, he could see Shiro; he could feel the tickle of his breath and warmth of his hands.

Lance felt his eyes drop slightly as Shiro revealed Lance’s flesh beneath. He stiffened his shoulders and chewed his lip. He enjoyed the feeling of a bra beneath his suit. It helped him feel…more like Lacey. This one was blue, soft and sheer as it stretched across his skin.

Shiro gently ran his thumb up beneath the strap of Lance’s attire and let it snap against the young man’s shoulder.

“Oh Lacey, this is a stunning color on you,” Shiro growled, his grey eyes deep and hungry.

Lance shimmied his arms out of the top half of his suit, cheeks red as beets and eyes full of stars.

Lance shoved the rest of his suit downward, taking in a big, brave, breath. It was like shedding a second skin, trying to be comfortable in his human one, and he was scared. But as the suit came down, and Lance stepped forward, Shiro was there to take his hands. Shiro caught him just as he fell and he knew he was safe from the pain of impact. He could jump without a parachute and he would make it safely to the ground.

Lance stood before Shiro, in nothing but a matching set of pale blue undergarments, the small panties doing very little to hide his state of arousal. His erection pressed flush up against his thigh, glans tucked into the hem of the clothing, just barely peeking out. He felt so vulnerable, he’d never let anyone see him like this, not while he was still Lacey. He’d had flings, but always as Lance, he didn’t think anyone else would understand why he needed to be Lacey.

But Shiro did.

The man stepped closer, his mission of getting his own suit off falling to the wayside as Lance instantly became the most interesting and important thing in the room. Shiro gently rested his right palm on the curve of Lance’s hip thumb tracing the soft silk lining of the underwear.

“Gorgeous…” Shiro whispered and Lance felt himself inflate on the praise.

“Charmer,” Lance huffed as he playfully swatted Shiro’s chest.

Shiro smiled stupidly.

“Take your clothes off,” Lance grinned as he tugged at the top of Shiro’s zipper.

Shiro looked downward, only then realize he was still far more dressed than Lance was.

“Oh, right,” Shiro laughed shaking his head.

It was a comical event to watch Shiro struggle out of his costume, then strip off the tank top he had on underneath, successfully getting his head stuck in his hurry. Lance stifled a laugh with his fist.

“Hold on killer, let me help you,” Lance insisted as he gently helped Shiro out of the shirt.

Shiro offered Lance a cheeky smile.

“Sorry, I just, you are really beautiful, I get sorta clumsy when I’m nervous,” Shiro admitted with a shrug.

Lance gawked at the comment.

“You’re nervous? Seriously _you? Are nervous?”_ Lance said teasingly.

“You look like you walked off a magazine spread and you are the one that’s nervous?” Lance reiterated as he gestured to all of Shiro, who stood bare from the waist up before him.

Shiro rubbed his arm shyly.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Shiro admitted with a raise of his shoulders.

“It’s really cute,” Lance purred as he plastered himself against Shiro’s massive chest.

“My big, soft, sweet lion,” Lance continued.

Shiro seemed to melt into the words, wrapping Lance in a warm hug, their foreheads pressed together. Lance kissed Shiro’s pulse and laced their fingers, coaxing him onto the bed as Lance slid across it. Shiro crawled after him, both smiling bright enough to illuminate the dimly lit room. Shiro flopped down, causing Lance to jolt a bit, riling up another fit of giggles from both their chests. They kissed softly, once, twice, three times before pressing their noses together and staying that way for a long moment.

“I wonder how many people have fucked in this bed,” Lance questioned thoughtfully as he rolled onto his stomach and kicked his legs back and forth.

Shiro scooted close to him, kissing Lance’s shoulder.

“A whole bunch.”

Shiro’s teeth found Lance’s ear, nibbling softly.

“Like more or less than a hundred?” Lance snickered lightly.

“More,” Shiro teased.

“Ewwww,” Lance giggled.

They laid there in silence for a while, bodies tangled together as Lance rolled and tucked his leg between Shiro’s thighs. Lance slowly slipped his hand downwards, finding some kind of confidence stored deep in his stomach. His witty fingers wrapped around the outline of Shiro’s cock through his athletic shorts, gathering a low grunt from the man. Lance licked his lips, eating the sound up hungrily. He swallowed it down and instantly wanted more.

“We could add to the numbers y’know…” Lance proposed playfully, watching intently as Shiro’s brows drew together tightly.

Lance ducked his head, supple lips opening to wetly suction around Shiro’s nipple, coaxing the small bud to hardness beneath his tongue. Shiro groaned and Lance could feel his erection flex in interest against his palm.

Shiro seemed to struggle to gather the words, looking at Lance through dreamy eyes.

“If that’s what you want,” Shiro said, voice ragged.

Lance pondered for a moment, tightening the ring of his thumb and forefinger as he dragged them up the soft material of Shiro’s shorts. Shiro cringed and shuddered.

“Is that what you want?”

Lance was determined to pry the answer out of the big man.

Lance may have taken his suit off his shoulders but he was still Lacey with every fiber of his being, dominant, playful, cheeky little Lacey. He was still all teeth and claws. Lance gently tugged the hem of Shiro’s clothing down, just enough to allow his thick head free. Lance slid his thumb along the other man’s slit, gathering a warm tear of wetness.

“ _Please…”_ Shiro gasped the single word out.

Lance’s lips curled back in a wicked smile. He rutted his slender hips into Shiro’s solid form, pulling the front of his panties down just a little more, allowing their cocks to rub together hotly. Shiro’s fingers clutched a handful of Lance’s soft rear, hauling him closer, desperate to have their bodies entwined. Lance dragged Shiro’s clothing down to the tops of his thighs, determined to touch more of him, explore without the hindrance of the material. Lance hummed as his soft digits wreathed around Shiro’s impressive girth, sliding upward in one fluid stroke, dragging the foreskin bundled beneath his head up over his blisteringly red glans. He switched directions and brought his hand back down, causing Shiro to ooze pre-cum wetly onto the comforter beneath them.

His deterioration had Lance swelling with pride.

He’d make him fall apart and maybe if he felt like it, put him back together afterward.

Lance extended his neck, teeth finding the lobe of his lover’s ear and worrying it softly. The touch to the sensitive flesh had a honey-sweet moan dripping off Shiro’s tongue. Pleasure sounded good on his tone. Lance kissed the skin right below Shiro’s jaw, tongue wet and devious as he drew an intricate roadmap down the big man’s pulse.

Lance’s eyes glistened in the dark, full of bad intentions.

He stalked down Shiro’s heaving body, kissing here and there, sometimes with teeth and sometimes without. Shiro was suddenly vividly aware that he was being _hunted._ He was in danger of being eaten alive and he couldn’t find the will to care. He wanted Lance’s teeth, his hunger; he wanted everything the other man had to give.

Shiro rolled onto the plain of his back, eyes unable to look anywhere else but Lance. The young man wet his lips, tongue dragging slow across them and leaned downward. His mouth explored the dips and hills of Shiro’s abdomen, swells of muscle twitching and tightening as Lance teased. Shiro tossed his arms back behind his head, chin tilting upward and hips lifting as Lance followed the thick line of black hair running from Shiro’s navel down to the meet of his thighs.

Lance pondered for a moment then grabbed Shiro’s athletic shorts, deciding they were suddenly in the way. He dragged them down powerful thighs, Shiro helping with the disrobing as best he could. Lance yanked them off Shiro’s ankles and tossed them backward over his shoulder carelessly.

Shiro lay sprawled across the hotel bedding, eyes half lidded, pleasure seeping out of his every pore. He looked incredibly needy, gaze silently begging Lance to touch him, to have him.

Lance shadowed the other man, settling himself comfortably between Shiro’s open legs. His cock was haloed in a ring of jet black hair, thick and pleading as it bobbed uselessly. Lance figured he’d stop teasing and give the other man what he wanted. Lance extended his tongue lazily and dragged a long, slow, wet stripe up the entire length of Shiro’s erection. Shiro’s hips snapped off the bed, right hand coming to fist in the sheets as he groaned.

“F-fuck, Lacey!” Shiro stammered voice thick and heady.

Lance kissed Shiro’s swollen tip lovingly, eyes playful as he peered up at the other man.

“What’s wrong Black? Too much?” Lance pouted teasingly as he parted his lips and gently encased Shiro within them.

His tongue flicked along Shiro’s frenulum, toying at the skin there before running his slit. A spark of salt and sour hit Lance’s taste buds as he lapped at Shiro’s leaking tip.

“N-no, just feels _really_ good,” Shiro managed to breathe.

Lance bobbed his head downward, then back up, allowing Shiro’s wet cock to pop free from his mouth. He paused, lips red and glistening and gave his partner a sickeningly devious grin.

“I have been told I give good head. My mouth wasn’t just made for talking.”

With that Lance descended back down Shiro’s erection, curl of fingers stroking upward as he encased as much as he could within his mouth. Lance gagged around Shiro’s dick and pulled backward, not letting that deter him. He rather enjoyed the feeling of choking on it, struggling for breath; it made his heart thrum faster. So he went back for more. Lance’s throat constricted around the fat circumference, drool running down over his fingers and collecting in Shiro’s dark hairs. His eyes came open lazily, enjoying the sight as soon they did so.

Shiro looked _wrecked_.

His eyes were closed, mouth hung open as he panted for breath, fingers white on the sheets as he clutched them. Lance smiled around his cock.

The young man reached out for Shiro’s hand and grabbed it lovingly, guiding it to the crown of his hair. Shiro’s eyes parted dazedly and he very carefully curled his fingers in Lance’s messy locks. He smiled stupidly and prodded Lance downward, the young man obeying more than willingly. Shiro threw his head back, hips twitching upward, pressing back into Lance’s tonsils, getting a choked noise from the pretty man. Lance palmed the weight of Shiro’s sack, rolling the loose skin upward gently, moving downward momentarily to suckle one of the sensitive bulbs. Shiro let go of a deep moan, balls pulling tighter to his body.

And then suddenly Shiro was sitting forward. He cradled Lance’s cheeks and Lance looked upward curiously.

“If you keep going like this I’m going to cum.”

Shiro’s voice was rough and ragged.

Lance liked the disheveled look on him.

“Isn’t that the point?” Lance argued cheekily as he tucked his legs beneath him and looked to Shiro innocently.

Shiro laughed.

“Well, yes, but I’d like to actually get to the fucking first,” Shiro grinned shaking his head.

Lance wiped his sloppy mouth on the heel of his hand and sighed dramatically.

“I suppose if you insist,” Lance teased.

Shiro brought Lance to him, kissing him softly, the taste of his own cock still clinging to Lance’s tongue.

“Do you have-…” Shiro began to ask but Lance interrupted.

“Lube, condoms? Yes and yes,” Lance announced proudly.

Shiro wasn’t about to ask why Lance would have those on a con trip, it wasn’t really his place, but in that moment he was just grateful they were on hand. Lance bounded off the bed and sashayed over to his suitcase.

Lance rummaged through the pockets in concentration, finally coming away with a small tube of lubricant and a single foil package. He triumphantly headed back toward the shared bed. Lance slid into Shiro’s lap. They fit perfectly together, like a foot sliding into a well-worn shoe. Shiro ripped open the condom and clumsily rolled it down his length, all the while focusing on kissing Lance hard and deep.

Lance rolled the soft panties down over his legs, but he couldn’t find it in him to part with the lovely bra. He wanted to keep that, and Shiro didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

Lance lifted up onto his knees, fumbling for the small tube that had rolled off into the sheets. He made to squirt a healthy amount into his own hand but Shiro grabbed his wrist.

“Let me,” Shiro whispered as he kissed Lance’s cheek.

Lance nodded.

They both giggled when Shiro deposited some of the gel into his hand and the tube made a rude noise. Shiro kissed the side of Lance’s mouth. His fingers were cold as he brushed them against his lover’s dark pucker, causing Lance to hiss and jolt. Shiro’s palm found the small of Lance’s back flattening against the warm skin. Big digits parted Lance’s tight ring, moving in slow, just two at first, curling and pumping and Lance was seeing stars. He leaned hard on Shiro, the big man holding him firm, fingernails digging into muscular shoulder-blades.

Lance sighed into the stretch as Shiro added another finger, the wet sound of lube and their tattered breaths being the only conversation in the room. Shiro angled his digits, searching within Lance’s tightness for that internal weakness. He made several attempts, missing his target every time before _finally_ his finger-pads brushed their mark. Lance careened, hiding himself in Shiro’s neck, twitching back on Shiro’s fingers, wordlessly asking for more.

Shiro stroked his fingers with more purpose, hitting where Lance needed again and again. Lance shook violently, crying and mewling as he rutted into Shiro’s lap.

And then Shiro’s fingers were gone.

Lance whimpered in protest and Shiro kissed the tip of his nose.

Shiro laced their fingers together with one hand and carefully lined up his cock with Lance’s entrance. He pressed into the button of wrinkled flesh, Lance opening to take him, the young man crying out the name he’d known Shiro by first, _Black._

Shiro liked the way it sounded, strained and pathetic.

Shiro allowed the other man to adjust, Lance steadying himself on Shiro’s shoulders to take the reins. Lance worked himself down on Shiro’s cock, face twisted into a look of utter concentration as he engulfed him. Shiro groaned lowly, palms sliding up Lance’s slender shoulders.

Lance hissed through his teeth, lifting up on his hips then dropping slowly back down, the ache of the stretch swimming up his spine. Lance could feel Shiro’s lips on his temple, warm and encouraging, the bigger man huffing hot, erratic breaths into his ear. Lance sunk down farther, finally feeling Shiro’s groin press flush with his rear. Hilting the man’s massive cock felt like some kind of great accomplishment in that moment.

Lance blinked slowly, watching the space between Shiro’s brows crinkle, the man moaning softly as Lance rocked his hips in experimentation. He tilted his chin backward, arching gracefully, and Shiro was there to pamper his neck.

Shiro moved his hips upward to meet with each of Lance’s motions, fucking into him as Lance came down. The sounds spilling like rivers from Lance’s mouth had the hairs on the back of Shiro’s neck standing on end. It had been so long since Lance had been with anyone like this. His skin felt sticky and warm, bodily fluids passed between them disgustingly. The wet squelch of lubricant was so loud as they rutted into one another like animals.

That was all they were after all, really.

Lance sunk his teeth into Shiro’s shoulder, nails dragging erratic red lines down the flesh of his perfect back. Shiro’s fingers clenched on Lance’s hips, pulling him into his every hard thrust. Lance could almost feel the bruises forming beneath his skin. He wanted them. He wanted the reminders of this place, this moment, like postcards come back to greet him from a far off land.

Shiro snarled his name, the name that Lance liked best, because he was nothing but Lacey here.

Lance’s toes curled as Shiro’s fist wrapped around his pitiful cock. Drool hung from his lower lip, mouth open wide as he cursed and yelled.

Lance almost felt bad for whoever got the unfortunate pleasure of being next door to their room.

The headboard thudded against the wall with every motion from Shiro’s hips and the thought of keeping someone up this late at night with their cries of ecstasy brought some sort of mean enjoyment to Lance’s being.

Shiro’s thumb pressed into the crease of his slit, stroking in time with their motions.

The weight of the pleasure was building like a wall in Lance’s stomach, brick by brick it raised higher and heavier. He could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him. The warmth of his looming orgasm had him by the throat. He didn’t care if it was too fast, he just _needed it._

He pressed his face into Shiro’s hair, slender stomach sucked in tight as the swarming warmth grew too hot and threatened to bubble right over. There was no holding it off another second. His vision sparkled with color, mouth falling wide as he let go of a loud yell. All the tension came to a head, exploding like fireworks in the night, loud and vibrant and quick.

Lance came in the small space between them, warm ropes of finish spackling Shiro’s stomach unabashedly. Lance whimpered as he rode his orgasm out, enjoying every sticky second of it, Shiro wringing each expulsion from his throbbing cock. Shiro kissed the wetness at the corner of Lance’s eye, running his thumb over Lance’s head, smearing cum across the wet flesh. He stroked Lance until the younger man could handle no more, too sensitive to be touched.

Shiro took hold of Lance’s rear, Lance nothing more than a tired ragdoll atop him. Lance clung to Shiro as the other man chased the satisfaction of his own finish, driving up into Lance’s abused asshole with purpose. He clutched Lance tight as he pressed in deep, searching for Lance’s very center.

Shiro stifled a rough moan into the curve of Lance’s shoulder as he finally met his own end. Lance could feel the pulsation of Shiro’s cock as he came hard and rough. The orgasm ripped through him and left him a tattered mess. Shiro gave several lazy humps before his grip loosened and he hung against Lance, unable to do anything but gasp for breath.

“That was…” Shiro finally managed to say, but his words trailed off.

“Amazing,” Lance finished his sentence for him, eyes barely open.

He’d never felt so tired in his entire life. The lethargy swam through him and left him feeling like he could fall asleep just like this, with Shiro’s cock still inside him. He didn’t care. He was warm and pleased and he was pretty sure he’d never felt so sated.

Shiro sighed out tiredly.

“We should shower,” He proposed.

Lance made a noise of protest.

“But I’m tired,” Lance whined.

“But we’re disgusting,” Shiro grinned.

Lance pouted.

“Carry me,” He said huffily.

Shiro laughed loudly and kissed his ear.

Shiro carefully managed to slip off the bed, Lance still in his arms, never disconnecting from the young man, and hefted him across the room with great ease. Lance seemed pleased with his personal taxi service as Shiro carefully pried his softening cock from Lance and set him on the bathroom counter. Shiro toed the door shut with his foot and turned his attention to getting the water running.

As they waited for the stream to warm Shiro cupped Lance’s jaw, looking exhausted and content.

*****

Hunk pried his keycard from his back pocket and gently slid it through the slot of the lock. It was nearly one in the morning as the concert had run longer than expected. The chime of his text tone made him pause before opening the door. He looked down at the device.

It was from Keith.

_“Hey Shiro’s not back at our room, tread with caution.”_

Hunk groaned and very slowly opened the door.

The lights of the space were off expect for the lamp settled between the beds. Immediately Hunk’s eyes flicked to the bathroom. There was a sliver of yellow glow from beneath the door and the sound of running water. Hunk could pick part a giggle that he knew was Lance, then another voice that was deeper. Hunk sighed and looked around the room, picking apart the evidence of a raunchy midnight rendezvous splayed out across the floor and Lance’s bed. There were unzipped costumes left in piles and clothes strewn on the end of the bed and the windowsill. A bottle of lube was left open on the bedside table and a condom wrapper lay crinkled on the sheets.

Hunk tiptoed to his suitcase and snatched up some sleep clothes and essentials then hurried out the door.

He quickly texted Keith back.

_“I’m sleeping in your room. I am not listening to them bang all night long.”_

*****

Lance sat on the living room couch, a backpack at his feet, scrolling through his Instagram account. Some things had changed on the profile that he called his own. His profile picture had shifted from a solo drawing of just Lacey, to an adorable picture of Lacey and Black together, their noses pressed against one another. His photos were often interrupted by silly selfies of him and Shiro on their many outings. The most recent being them at lunch, a trip to the aquarium and a secret photo Lance had snapped of Shiro when he’d fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of watching a movie. Lance finally felt comfortable posting photos of…what he really looked like on the account. He was learning to love himself just the way he was. It wasn’t an easy path and some days it was still hard.

But he had Shiro there, Shiro with his bright smile and kind words.

Lance’s phone suddenly lit up with an incoming call.

Shiro’s name was displayed across the screen.

Lance smiled warmly and answered it.

“I’m right outside, you ready sweetheart?” Shiro’s deep voice came across the speaker.

Lance giggled.

“Almost, I’ll be down in a sec,” Lance said cheerily.

He hung up, slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door.

“Hunk I’m leaving!! See you Sunday!!” Lance called loudly.

The weekend was stretched out in front of him, an entire two days spent in Shiro’s company, and he was in desperate need of it.

Lance shoved his sunglasses on his face and got halfway down his apartment steps before a loud honk greeted his ears.

His smile stretched from ear to ear.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket and forgot about it. He didn’t need it now, as he approached the truck and yanked the passenger side door open. Lance slid across the bench seat, big hands pressing against his cheeks as their mouths met in earnest. Shiro tasted like coffee and cinnamon gum. Lance couldn’t get enough of it.

His little imaginary world could stay safely tucked behind his phone screen.

He was trying reality on for size lately.

And he found it seemed to be a pretty good fit.


End file.
